


I am the offering and the fire which consumes it

by Kat



Series: It's all fun and games [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Everybody must get stoned, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sneezing, sneezing fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat/pseuds/Kat
Summary: Wherein Junkrat and Roadhog rob a Hindu temple.
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Series: It's all fun and games [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705936
Kudos: 11





	I am the offering and the fire which consumes it

In the embrace of his beloved a man forgets the whole world,  
everything both within and without;  
in the same way, he who embraces the Self,  
knows neither within nor without.  
— [Brihadaranyaka Upanishad](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brihadaranyaka_Upanishad)

“Swear that fuckin’ game musta been rigged,” Junkrat said as they walked down the hall. He patted Hana’s arm. “You shoulda won, no question.”

“No big,” she shrugged, unconcerned. “Everyone loses sometimes.”  
  
“Too right - when the opponent’s a cheat. Me an’ Roadie’ll take care of him for ya.” Junkrat pressed his hand to the locking panel and the door opened with a hiss. Hana followed him into the room, glancing around curiously.

Roadhog looked up from the book he was reading. “Take care of who?”

“Drongo what cheated the D.Va. Think he needs a lesson.”

Roadhog turned to her and his voice went low and cold. “Just give us a name.”

“Woah woah, guys,” she held up her hands. “It’s just a stupid show competition. It wasn’t even ranked.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. Not to mention, been too bloody quiet around here. Trigger finger gettin’ itchy.”

“You have principles,” Roadhog said, skepticism clear in his tone.

“In me own way.” Junkrat crossed his arms over his chest. “Can’t believe ya doubt me, Roadie. Breakin’ me heart.”

Hana’d clearly moved on to other things - she picked up a small silver figurine, cocked her head. “Why do you have a Ganesh,” she asked.

Junkrat grinned, glancing at Roadhog from the corner of his eye. “Ya ever been to a Hindu temple?”

She shook her head. “You’re telling me you have?”

“Course! Might not guess it, but Roadie ‘n me are dead spiritual.” Junkrat bit his lip, trying to hold in the laughter that was bubbling. Gods, the memory of that night… hadn’t thought of it in ages. Could practically smell the incense just looking at the Ganesh. Sandalwood and plumeria. Sweet and spice. He rubbed his nose, wondered if there was any left stashed somewhere. Heat radiated from the center of his stomach until he was suffused. Felt Roadhog staring. Even through the smoked lenses of his mask, his gaze burned.

Then Roadhog snorted a laugh and Junkrat finally let the giggles spill free.

Hana frowned. “I know I’m missing something here, but…”

“Don’t ask,” Roadhog said.

Suspicious, Hana narrowed her eyes, but then yawned hugely. “Probably better not to,” she agreed. “Too tired to deal with whatever … shenanigans were going on.”

“Now ya sound like Morrison.” The word sounded hilarious, coming from her.

“Night guys. Or should I say, g’noight mates.” She saluted.

“One of these days yer accent’s gonna kill someone.” But he was still grinning as he locked the door behind her.

The color was high on Roadhog’s neck, his shoulders were tight. He’d picked up the Ganesh, cradled it carefully. Looked tiny in his palms. Such big hands. Capable of immense violence and, unexpectedly, equally immense gentleness. Never once did Roadhog hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. Or want it.

“Thinkin’ about the Temple heist.” Junkrat wasn’t really asking. Could tell Roadhog was.

They were smoking that night, passing a joint back and forth as they wandered through the London streets. Hadn’t had a plan in mind - only arrived that morning. Body thought it was time for brekkie, though was well past midnight. To Rat’s perplexed bemusement, Roadie was actually humming a song under his breath. Teased a memory somewhere on the edge of Junkrat’s thoughts but everything felt hazy and he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“You’re quiet,” Roadhog said as he passed the roach back.

Junkrat sucked a lungful of smoke and held it. Shrugged. “You’re not.” When he spoke the words puffed out in a cloud.

“Huh,” Roadhog seemed surprised. “Hadn’t noticed.”

As he handed the last of the joint back to Roadhog, a glint caught his gaze and his eyes widened. “Crikey, Hog. Get a load o’ that place!” Ornately carved arch stretched over a gleaming silver door. “The hell is that?”

Roadhog followed his gaze. “Looks like a Hindu temple.”

Junkrat stopped, considering. “With a door like that, gotta figure they’ve got some decent shit in there….”

Roadhog also paused. “Not sure I like where this is going.”

“Hey, we ain’t hit anything in days. Gotta make this shit worth your while or you’re gonna quit bein’ my bodyguard.” Junkrat crossed his arms. Little miffed Roadie might not approve of his plan. Idea. Supposed wasn’t detailed enough to technically qualify as a plan. But they’d pulled off plenty of heists without one, technical or otherwise.

Roadhog sighed, tossing the end of the joint in a bin. “Fine, let’s do it.”

Junkrat grinned. “Right.”

It’d been ridiculously easy to break in. Seemed like God would have better security than an ancient crook vid camera that even he could hack, and an even more ancient Claytons Cop sound asleep in his office who didn’t even twitch when they passed by.

The main sanctuary was lined with small niches, each holding several golden statues of goddesses looped with gold chains and pendants, surrounded by flowers, candles, incense, and plates of money and food worshippers had left as offerings. Junkrat started pocketing cash from the offering plates and gold chains, a small silver statue of an elephant god, but after only a minute realized his nose was itching. Strange sensation… not like he was getting sick, not even like the usual insistent sharpness of allergies. Lighter, just barely there. Teasing the edges.

Rubbed his nose, sniffed. Unfortunately did no good at all. Still those light itching tickles that maybe felt like a sneeze? Maybe? No… ? He sighed, a somewhat wavery sound that had Roadhog glancing over.

“”M f...fine,” he managed. Talking made it worse, but still not enough to go anywhere. He blinked, slowly. At his foot wisps of smoke rose from incense sticks, floating up on random air currents. It was a heady smell, sweetness edged with spice. He breathed it in, and it felt like the tendrils had curled into his nostrils. The tickling sensation teased, a will-it, won’t-it, that had his whole body in a state of oddly pleasant, if confused, anticipation.

Roadhog’s boots thudded on the marble floors as he crossed the room. Junkrat tried to smile, even through the fluttering desire.

“I… _hihIssshew!”_ The sneeze sent him stumbling forward and he put out a hand to catch himself. Roadhog steadied him. “Sorry, just… _hit’issshew!”_ Even with both, his nose still tingled and the way Roadhog was staring brought the heat up in his face. “I think…” he paused, waiting. Again? It was such an insubstantial feeling, and the sneezes didn’t really clear it, they were too floaty. “Think I might be…” A breath. Another breath. “Allergic… _Huh R’aahshh!”_ The last one echoed in the sanctuary and the cop let out a snort and they’d run. But not before Junkrat’d pocketed a packet of incense sticks.

They’d sold off all of the treasure, except for the little silver Ganesh. Now Junkrat opened a drawer, and discovered a few remaining sticks. He held one up, and a joint. “Again?”

Roadhog lit the joint as Junkrat lit the incense and they lay back on the bed together, staring up at the curls of smoke that rose to the ceiling. In the background music pulsed, deep bass, lighter electronic tones over. Something of Lucio’s. Fit perfectly with the dreaming feeling that was suffusing his body.

His skin buzzed gently, as though infused with smoke and music. The lightest tickling sensation edged his nose again with the sweet spice smoke. Everywhere tingled, wanting, and like Roadie knew, he peeled the shirt from Junkrat and ran his hands over his chest, calluses scratching just slightly. Rat sighed, a puff of air. “Tickles,” he said, meaning his skin, his nose, everything.

Roadie said nothing, just watched. He’d taken off the mask to smoke and his eyes were bright, burning.

“Feels… so good.” A surprise. Never minded sneezing, exactly. Specially when he knew what it did to Roadhog, but never realized how it felt. The exquisite ache as the sensation built up. His eyes drifted closed, better to focus on the sensation. “ _Hih-isshew! Issh! Issh! Isshuh!”_ The sneezes tumbled out of him in a rush, one almost over top of the next.

“Bless you, Rat.”

Wanted to say ‘thank you,’ but couldn’t get the words out, disappeared in the haze and the need to sneeze again. “ _Huh… isshew! Hih-issshah! Issh!”_ Sweet scents floating over him, Roadhog’s fingers drifting over his skin. Piano over the bass, notes dropping into the center of him. Felt like he was drowning in sensation.

Then Roadhog’s hands at his hips, unbuckling his belt, tugging open his shorts, freeing his cock. Mouth closed warm around him and he gasped and reached for Roadie as well. Rat rubbed his nose against Roadhog’s thigh, the rough denim satisfying the itchiness. Took Roadie into his mouth, only stopping to sneeze every now and again when the feathery tickle grew too strong.

They moved together with the music, moving like waves and the desire burned through Junkrat, not like the explosion but like the bright burn of a candle, the warm glow of the edge of a stick of incense. And when the fire consumed him, he let himself dissolve into it.


End file.
